


four ways to say i love you

by emilieee



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrinette, F/M, Fluff, LadyNoir - Freeform, Marichat, just fluff hsjkf, ladrien, post reveal established relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:35:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25364710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilieee/pseuds/emilieee
Summary: It’s the little things, such as waking up at five in the morning to cook for him or lending her a coat when she’s cold that mean the world.Because Marinette loves her partner very, very much, and she’s so lucky that he feels the same.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 40
Kudos: 227





	four ways to say i love you

**Author's Note:**

> y'all fighting over the best side of the lovesquare but i present you: four sides of the lovesquare, being equally appreciated. 
> 
> post-reveal, established relationship!

Adrien is brushing his teeth when Ladybug comes crashing through his window. 

He’s a little later than usual today, still decked in his Ladybug pajamas that he’s so unashamedly proud of. He has tied his bangs back with an elastic band, and it sits like a little tree on top of his head, water still dripping from his face. 

“And here I was, thinking you’d be ready to eat breakfast,” she _tsk_ s playfully. 

He grins back. “Sorry, M’lady. Plagg turned my alarm off.” 

His smile is, as usual, contagious and in a way that can’t help but to smile back. Ladybug returns to his room and takes out the box from her bag, where she’d painstakingly prepared breakfast for him at the expense of a shattered bowl and spilled jug of milk. It’s still warm to the touch, thankfully, and her slightly rough landing in his room hadn’t messed it up _too_ much. 

Adrien joins her a couple minutes later. He has taken the hair tie out, but his bangs fall softly over his eyes like it does when he’s Chat Noir, and Ladybug wants to run her hands over it so to feel just how soft it is. She refrains herself, though, as they both settle cross-legged on the ground where she has laid their breakfast out. 

His mouth drops open. “ _Wow,”_ Adrien marvels. “When you said you were going to make a feast, I thought you’d fry an egg or two and slap it between some bread and that would’ve been it. This is… can you describe food as gorgeous? Because this is gorgeous.” 

“Just because that’s the only thing _you_ can cook doesn’t mean it’s all _I’m_ capable of,” she sniffs, but underneath, Ladybug preens at the compliment. 

It’d taken a lot of effort, and Ladybug had collected the ingredients the day before and planned every single detail before going to bed. Then, at five in the morning, she dragged herself out of bed looking _and_ feeling like a zombie just to prepare it. 

There are four egg rolls drizzled with homemade sauce, then sprinkled with dried seaweed and sesame. Next to that are neat cuts of green onion cake, made from absolute scratch (she burned herself in the process of deep-frying them). Inside the longest container are fried fish, the ones her mother had prepared the night before. Finally, the leftover mooncakes from the Lunar Festival are in the little box, tied with a red bow. Marinette had spent careful care on that one. 

“Miso soup,” Ladybug tells him as she hands him the thermos. “Uh… I think I added too much paste and it’s too salty, so you might not want to drink that one. And…” She opens the last box, where a variety of fresh-cut fruit awaits. “For health reasons, there are fruits. Oh! Also a cheese platter for Plagg, but he’s still asleep, so he can have it later.” 

Adrien is positively beaming when she unpacks everything. “You’re the absolute best,” he gushes. 

“Couldn’t have you starving on your diet, right?” The nonchalant act can only go so far when she’s grinning so wide. “I’m just hoping it tastes as good as it looks.” 

“It’ll taste good just because you made it.” He throws her an exaggerated wink, then immediately reaches for his chopsticks to dig in. 

Ladybug watches him take a bite out of green onion cake. He chews, swallows, eyes lighting up. “This is amazing, and I promise I’m not just saying that because my diet’s forced me to eat boiled chicken breasts with no seasoning of the past week.” 

She giggles. “Just let me know when you want me to bring you breakfast.” 

He places a hand on his chest. “I can’t believe Ladybug’s my personal delivery girl. Do you offer lunch services as well?” 

“Only for you, kitty.” 

His grin is worth getting up for at 5am. 

***

Marinette is freezing at lunch break, but they’ve agreed to eat outside, so she sucks it up. At least the lunch she’d packed for her and Adrien is warm.

It’s late autumn now, and the last couple of leaves cling to otherwise bare trees. She regrets the outfit she picked—cute, but not practical. Especially not in this weather. Looking at Alya bundled up in a hoodie and combat boots, Marinette _really_ regrets the dress. 

The noodles in the thermoses are slightly soggy, but the flavour is still there. They chat for a while—about upcoming tests, about projects and the end-of-the-year field trip that is still months away, and everything is lovely. Lovely, but cold. 

Halfway through, her noodles emptied, Adrien notices her shivering. “Are you cold?” he asks, eyes growing wide in concern. 

Alya halts her conversation with Nino as well. “Wait, Adrien’s right, you’re wearing a dress. I’m chilly and I have a sweater on.” 

Marinette, who has refrained from speaking for the past couple of minutes in fear of her teeth chattering too loudly, manages to shake her head. 

She gets a scrutinizing look-over by Adrien before he makes his verdict. “This isn’t going to do,” he declares firmly. Then, with one fluid movement, he shrugs his own sweater off and drapes it over her shoulders. 

“Oh, he’s _smooth,”_ Alya remarks with a wicked grin. 

Smooth, indeed. The jacket is wonderfully warm, and, with a content sigh, Marinette slides her arms through the sleeves. There’s also the faint smell of his cologne and it’s so very _him_ that she can’t help the smile that crosses her face. 

He opens an arm in a beckoning gesture and Marinette happily settles into his embrace. 

***

Because of his father’s strict rules, it’s much easier for Adrien to come by as Chat Noir after school, which he does almost everyday. Sometimes it’s between his schedules, sometimes it’s after, late into the night when both his father and Nathalie believe he’s asleep. Marinette always listens for the _thump_ on the skylight, an indication that he’s there. The trap door is always left unlocked for him, so she only needs to wait as he climbs down the ladder. 

It’s nearing nine when he comes this time. She sits at her desk finishing up the rest of the notes when the door creaks open and Chat Noir climbs down. 

“Evening,” he greets. “What—ooh, you brought croissants for me.” 

He zeroes in immediately on the food that Marinette had, admittedly, prepared for him. Between Adrien’s schedule and that godawful diet his father insisted putting him on _and_ his time sprinting across rooftops and fighting akumas, it’s a miracle that he hasn’t fainted from lack of nutrition. Marinette has made it her personal goal to make sure he’s properly fed, and she ensures there’s a snack waiting for him every time he drops by. 

Half a minute later, he’s munching enthusiastically on the food and Marinette can no longer focus on the rest of her notes. She sorts them out—there’s at least four pages that she’d copied in her neatest handwriting—and then hands them to Chat. 

“Here,” she tells him. “You missed both physics and mathematics today because of the photoshoot, so I copied the notes from class and re-organized them. I also added a review section from last class so it’s easier to figure out just where we are since the two lessons are connected. And…” She shuffles through her desk once more, producing the textbook. “It’s on page one hundred and twenty seven to one hundred and twenty nine, if my notes don’t make sense. You can study here, if you’d like. My parents won’t be coming back up anyway, so we should be left alone for now.” 

The last time her mother had walked in on her and Chat doing homework together, she’d been understanding. Understanding, but skeptical. It had been awfully hard to explain why Paris’ superhero was lounging in her room like he lived there—and much harder more awkward to explain that Adrien was one hundred supportive of her friendship with Chat after her father had become defensive that he had ulterior motives. 

Chat takes the papers from her. “You’re absolutely unbelievable,” he tells her, eyes shining in a way only his can. “Seriously, Marinette, have I ever told you?” 

She pretends to count on her fingers. “Let’s see… only about six times today. Why?  
  
He shakes his head, a grin pulling at the corner of his lips. In one fluid movement, he leans down to pluck the textbook from her hands and plants a quick kiss against her cheek in the process. “What would I do without you?”

“Go hungry, probably? Start lagging behind in all of your classes?” Marinette _tsks_ at him. “God, you’re right. What _would_ you do without me?” 

Chat’s laugh is wonderful and full and happy. “Then aren’t I lucky to have you.” 

***

The akuma strikes at midnight. 

Marinette, about to change into her pajamas after _just_ sending off Chat Noir, curses to herself. She’s tired and _not_ in the mood to transform, but when Chat comes crashing back down from the skylight urgently, she knows she has no choice. 

“Akuma!” he informs her, as if the tremors outside could be caused by anything else. “It’s close to here. We should be able to take this one quickly.” 

“Why is Hawkmoth even _awake?”_ Marinette grumbles, but transforms nonetheless. Chat waits patiently on the side, though he’s drawn taut, prepared to scramble into action the moment she’s ready. Then they’re climbing out of the skylight, into the light, where the akuma has begun its rampage. The once-quiet night is ripped apart with panic and terror. 

The akuma is relatively easy to deal with: a little girl, apparently inspired by _Frozen,_ is decked in full _Elsa,_ wielding similar powers. She covers the streets in ice, a snowstorm whirling around her, as spirals of icy sculptures rise and fall. 

Both she and Chat have icicles hanging off them by the time Ladybug purifies the akuma. Even after she releases the _Miraculous Ladybug,_ the cold from the girl’s powers haven’t seeped out of her bones. Judging from Chat’s chattering teeth, he feels the same. 

Despite her watch reading _12:32_ and the next day hailing as a school day _,_ they stop by at a 24-hour-cafe for hot chocolate. A couple minutes later, seated on the rooftops warming their chilled hands, they’re huddled against each other and staring out at the gleaming cityscape. 

“Another successful take-down, m’lady?” 

Ladybug laughs as he raises his cup for a toast, and she obliges and bumps her own against him. Hot chocolate sloshes over the lid, splashing onto her suit. She flicks it off. “What a team we make, huh? Now, if only Hawkmoth would get the memo and stop creating his akumas _so late._ Why is he even up now? Say, do you think he has a life outside of being Hawkmoth?” 

“He probably wants to catch us off guard in the middle of the night. Remember that one time we got woken up at three because there was an akuma attack? Plagg wanted to tape my mouth shut so I couldn’t transform.” 

Ladybug groans. “I did really bad on a test the next day because I got three and a half hours of sleep—I fell asleep _halfway through the test!_ It’s— _ugh._ He’s so annoying.” 

“There’s one good thing about midnight akumas, though,” Chat points out. 

She takes a sip from the hot chocolate, which, during their conversation, has cooled down to just below scalding. “A good thing?” Ladybug echoes. “Name one good thing, _chaton.”_

He nudges her shoulder. “You, m’lady. It’s nice just being alone like this without anyone else, right?” 

Then, like he’s said nothing out of the ordinary, Chat goes back to drinking his hot chocolate with infuriating nonchalance. 

Ladybug finds herself smiling. “You know,” she tells Chat Noir. “You’re ridiculously good at this. Where do you even get the inspiration to say these things?” 

“You.” 

“You are _completely_ overdoing it.” 

“You love me, admit that.” 

“No.” 

“So you would get up at five in the morning to make breakfast for just _anyone,_ Bugaboo?” 

Ladybug relents. “Okay, maybe a little.” 

Chat Noir’s laugh rings crystal clear throughout the night, loud against the crisp air. Ladybug wants to trap that laugh and hold it close to herself. She can’t help but treasure it, after all: it’s a sound that chases away worries, soothes fears, and she thinks she's so, so lucky to hear it everyday. 

“I love you,” he tells her when his laughter dies down. “Don’t forget that, m’lady.” 

Ladybug leans her head on her shoulder. “I love you too,” she replies quietly. “You better not forget it, either.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at [e-milieeee!](https://e-milieeee.tumblr.com/)


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